Love: A Collection of Short Stories
by trash-girl
Summary: [For The One I Love] A collection of twelve one shots based on love. Each story tells of what someone would do for the person that means the world to them. Rated T for mild language and mild sexual content.
1. Valentine's Day

Author's Note: A nice little one shot on love. I hope you like it. Please read and review. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own 'For the One I love.'

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Love: A Collection of Short Stories

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Valentine's Day.

It is the holiday in which you are supposed to proclaim your love for that special someone. The day you took a chance and believed in faith. If the person accepted you, you became a couple and spent all the time in the world together. If they didn't, you would admire from a far. Not caring if they loved you back anymore. If they were happy then you were happy. That was all you needed to go on. That was the way I lived. I watched the boy I had loved since fifth grade. I watched him succeed in everything that he did. I cheered when he scored points in his lacrosse games and was sad when things didn't go his way. I never forced myself onto him. I never burdened him with my feelings of love. I knew he wouldn't look at me no matter what. I wasn't as tall as any of the other girls who hung around him. I wasn't as big slut. I didn't go to the movies and smoke pot with him and his friends. I stayed home and went on the internet. I downloaded songs to my iPod. I sat in the nearest Bookstore and read books. I went to Starbucks and sipped mindlessly at my frappuccino. I was a loner. I had no friends. The only friends I had were my two dogs. But something in me told me that I had to do this. I was planning to make brownies for Valentine's Day and give them to him. I was also going to tell him how I felt.

I was falling asleep. Again. My teacher was talking in monotone and teaching geometry. I didn't know anything that she was saying. I guess that was why I was failing this class. In order to keep myself awake I started doodling. I am sure that my teacher was probably going to call on me. She knew that I wasn't paying attention. I could feel her staring at me. She walked over to me a look of sheer disappointment on her face. She took up the doodle that I was drawing. As she walked back to the front of the classroom she ripped up the doodle and threw it away. Fine art is never appreciated. She returned to me a little later she came back to my desk and sat a pink slip down. I picked it up and read it. 'DETENTION', was written in big bold letters across the top. I sighed. A detention was just what I needed. My mother probably wouldn't care. She would just sign the slip and tell me that she was disappointed in my inability to concentrate in class. But I didn't care what she thought. The bell rang, ripping me away from my thoughts. I stuffed the pink slip into my purse and left the classroom as quick as I could. Of course in doing so I was being careless. I bumped into something and fell. I heard whatever I bumped into grunt as it hit the floor. Shit. They were probably going to starts cursing and yelling at me. It wasn't like it was something new, but still I didn't have time for that today. I looked up to see who it was I exactly had bumped into. It was _him_. I had bumped into him and hadn't apologized yet. I felt my face turn bright red. I had never been that shade of color before except for in the fifth grade when I had urinated on myself in front of the entire class. He looked back at me. The anger off his face melted away when he realized that it was me. I guess he didn't angry at girls. He handed me my purse. My face cooled down a bit. 'Thank you. I am so sorry about bumping into you.' Was what came out of my mouth. I don't think he heard it since I had spoken in barely above a whisper. I stood up and got back on my way. My next class was French. I sucked at French too but I just didn't want to take Reading.

My head hit the window of the bus hard. Really hard. I snapped awake and yawned. I guess last night I hadn't gotten enough sleep. The school day had been a big pain the ass. My day had gone from bad to worse. I had failed my French test. I had forgotten about the writing assignment in Social Studies and when the teacher had called on me I didn't have anything. In science I didn't have my packet and the teacher called out aloud that I was the only person who had yet to turn it in. That was all I could make it through before I just completely shut down. Valentine's Day was in tomorrow and I had to start on my gift tonight or I wouldn't be able to give him anything. The bus made a loud screeching noise as it reached my stop. I stood up and walked down the aisle. Kids sneered at me as I got off the bus. I tripped on the last step and I heard laughter. Grumbling I stormed home. "Mom, I'm home!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. No reply. She was probably working a double shift at Wal-Mart. I threw my book-bag on the floor and went to the refrigerator. I got out a Sprite and opened the bottle. Immediately fizz started coming out. I gritted my teeth. I put the two-liter bottle into the sink and ripped paper towels away from the roll. Mopping up the mess I cursed in my mind. My life was so hard and complicated. The phone rang. More mental cursing. I picked it up. I was to pissed for words. "Hello?" I sounded like a brat.

"Hey is this…um…Amy?"

I scowled at whoever it was. "Yea, it is. Who is this?" There was more question in my voice than I had wanted there to be. I hated when I couldn't control myself. I let my emotions out a little too much sometimes. I became impatient waiting for the person to reply.

"Oh. I'm sorry. It's me Brian." I dropped the phone on the floor. It was him. I wanted to scream and jump all around. It was him. The boy I loved had called my house. A large smile crept across my face. I heard him asking if I was still there. I didn't know if I wanted to answer. If I did I would have to engage in my first phone conversation with someone that I knew from school. I picked up the phone off the floor and cleared my throat.

"Sorry. My phone lost the connection," Liar, "is there a reason you called?" I kept my voice level.

It took him a minute to answer. "I have been trying to get to you all day. I found your book." My book? What book? I reached over for my book-bag. I unzipped it and searched inside. It wasn't there. I had bought the book just yesterday and already it was missing. I had been dumb to forget something that was like my head to me.

"Thank goodness you found it. I had been looking for it all day. Could you give it to me tomorrow?" I just kept the lies coming. I had only found out about my book thirty seconds ago when he said something. Maybe later I would start telling the truth again.

"Okay…well bye." He hung up before I could say anything. The whole conversation had been awkward. I guess he wasn't used to talking to me or anyone like me. After all I was a special type of person. I wasn't a social butterfly. Hanging up the phone I put my book-bag on the kitchen table. It was time to start on the homework that I would lose by tomorrow. I only did it to make myself feel better. It was so when I told my teachers that I had lost it I wouldn't feel as though I was lying to them. Though they probably thought I was. I opened my science book to chapter one section one. The first sentence 'What is matter?' turned me off right then and there. I continued against my will.

She strolled in half-drunk. One of her co-workers was supporting her. That was my mother. She didn't care whether or not she had a daughter that needed her. It was the same every night. She went to bar and got drunk. Along the way she had probably screwed around with a couple of guys and had either had sex with them or given them a blow job. And she probably charged a good bit. That was the reason she had some extra cash sometimes. It wasn't like my mother was a prostitute or something it was just that she did some risky things sometimes. I told her co-worker to lay my mother in her room. I took it from there and thanked the person as they left. I thought that my mother would be home sooner. I had made dinner already and put it up. It was late, almost midnight. The brownies I had made for Brian were already done cooking and I had wrapped them up in special packaging. I had been making a card off the computer when my mother had come home. After putting her to bed I went back to the computer and started working again. I had to make sure that I put something meaningful on the card. It couldn't be something stupid and cheesy. Sighing I wrote what I felt. I turned it into a poem rather that a card but it turned out okay. I printed it then read the small poem that I had written:

_I cannot say what I can write, I cannot write what I can say_

_I could write 'I Love You' a thousand times over_

_And still not be able to tell you by mouth, You don't understand_

_The effect you have over me, but I love it, I love it_

_And everything about you, I am not sure about a lot of things but_

_The one thing I am sure of is that…I love you._

It still sounded corny. But it was a little to late now. If he didn't like the poem I didn't care. All I wanted him to like was me. If he didn't like me then I would go back to the way I was before. I would watch him from the sidelines as I had before. I would cheer for him when he did well and would be sad when he didn't. I would live my life as passive as I had before.

I was nervous. I held the present for him in hands. I was afraid that it would drop to the ground and smash the brownies that were inside. Then I would have only the card to give him. Which I am sure he wouldn't like. I tensed up even more as the bus pulled up to the school and we were let out. I walked slowly through the crowd. I say girls and guys carrying their gifts. I felt better that I was not the only one who recognized this holiday. I turned the corner onto the hallway where my locker was. I put the combination too fast and missed it. I tried again. I held the gift in one hand and my book-bag in the other. I would come back and get my stuff later after I had given my present to him. I searched around the hallways for him. I looked where I knew his locker was which was by the Spanish room.

I waited. I waited about five minutes before I saw him. He had my book in his hands when he came over to me. He put the book in my free hand and turned to walk away. I hadn't thanked him yet and I hadn't given him my gift. I thought to call out his name. Hopefully my voice wouldn't fail me now. "Brian!" He stopped but didn't turn around. Maybe he didn't want to talk to me. Maybe his kindness had ended when he gave me back the book. "Brian, wait." I came over to him.

He looked at me. A small smile was on his face. I knew it wasn't real. "Amy, I know…you probably don't—".

I interrupted. "I don't know what you are talking about but here. This is for you." I handed him my gift and prayed that he would like it. "I…I love you." He looked at me. His eyes were wide with surprise. He pulled me close to him in a hug. I didn't understand. I pulled back with a puzzled look on my face.

"I love you, too." The four most important words came out of his mouth. A large smile spread across my face. I knew at that moment I wasn't a loner anymore. That I had somebody there with me too. At that second I realized that this what it was like to be on cloud 9. He held my hand and leaned in towards me.

We kissed.

We kissed in front of everybody.

All of our classmates watching.

They were finally staring at me.

And I hope with all my heart that some of the girls were jealous.

I was happy for the first time. I had gotten the first boy that I had loved to love me back.

'I love you.'

'I love you, too.'

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This is the end of the first one shot. On Friday, look for another story. I hope you liked this one. If you didn't please I am sorry. You may not want to read the next one. Anyways, if you like or not could you please review? I would definitely wasn't some input on the story. Please review! Thanks and 'til next time. 

XOXOXOXOXOXO,

tRash-giRl


	2. Winter

Author's Note: This is the second one shot. It is kind of sad but I hope you like it anyways.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'For The One I Love'.

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Love: A Collection of Short Stories

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Winter. 

It was another cold winter's night inside the small car. Everything was calm and quiet. There was no conversation, the only sound you could here was that of their breathing. Their breaths were slow, deep, and steady. They lay cuddled together to try and make sure that they were as warm as possible. There was only one blanket to share between the two but neither minded. It had been this way for years now. It had been this way since she had had the four small bundles that were asleep in the backseat. They had lived like this. Driving around and trying to find a place to sleep for the night. He worked two jobs but it wasn't enough to get a home. He made barely enough money for the six of them to eat. Their meals consisted of poptarts for breakfast and on the week days they ate from trashcans, while on the weekends they skipped lunch. Dinner usually was from a nearby fast food restaurant or something out of the store. Of course what was really taking up their money was the necessities. Clothing was very expensive. Even shopping at the thrift store was starting to cost. When they required visits to the doctor they had to pay full and up front due to the lack of insurance. The fact that they were alive was costing them. The only reason that they were in this situation was because of feelings. These feelings that didn't exists anymore. At least one of them didn't feel that way anymore. He didn't feel that way. It was all her fault. She was the one who had convinced him of everything. She was the one that told him that it would be okay. She was the one who screamed and yelled at him when they could afford anything. All because she knew too much. All because she knew about what had happened before this. All because she knew about his undying drug habit. He had decided that what she knew was going to die from her knowledge. After she was gone everything would be fine. He could handle the four problems in the backseat but not the one next to him. He would simply go home and everything would return to normal. He would be accepted back into his old life. The life where everything wasn't carefree, but it was close to it. The life that was good. The life where he wasn't some kid working for below minimum wage. It would all be over soon enough. Tonight was when he was going to take his plan into action. He opened his eyes slightly. He looked at her sleeping form. Her hair and bangs obscured her facial features. One of the very things that made her so beautiful. Her soft cheeks. Her pink full lips. Her long thin eyelashes. Thinking so fondly of the features made a small smile appear on his face. He lifted his hand and touched her chin. He took her chin in his hand and pulled her face closer. He kissed her lips delicately. She stirred and woke up. She moved closer to him and snuggled against him. She opened her mouth and let his tongue in. Their kiss became more passionate and he pinned her against the seat. He ran his hands up her shirt. He had a sudden thought. Breaking their kiss he moved away and faced away from her. He couldn't look at her knowing what he was about to do. She wrapped her arms around him pulling them closer together. "I love you." Her voice was soft and sweet. She sounded as sincere as she had the first time.

He sighed inwardly. "I love you, too." His voice was cold. There was no emotion in it. There was no meaning behind the four words that he had just said. They were as empty as he was. Nothing else was said. She yawned and loosened her grip on him. She fell asleep back against him. Her head against his back. He shook his head. She was so stupid. She didn't see any of it. She didn't see his hate for her. The pure hatred for her that had replaced the love he had once carried. He would have to kill her inside the car. He didn't want to risk that someone would happen to hear her if she screamed. He would rather they find her body later. If the police or anyone found out that he had done this he would spend the rest of his life in prison, if he was lucky. On the other hand he could also be put on death row. He would have to take a chance. He removed her hands from around him. She let out a sound of protest but he ignored it. He opened the car door letting in a gust of cold wind. He shivered before closing the door. He walked around to the trunk of the car. That was where he kept the knife. He searched around through their clothes for it. The dim light that was inside the trunk wasn't helping at all. He finally found it inside a book bag that he had. He held the knife tightly by the handle in his hand. He didn't know what to do with it. He grabbed his jacket from a pile of clothes and wrapped the knife up. He slammed the trunk closed. He opened the door to the car and found that she had turned back around. He watched as she curled up tightly into a ball. She was cold. He got back in the car with an expressionless look on his face.

"Where did you go?" She was still facing in the other direction. She waited for him to answer but he didn't. She turned around. She looked at him. His eyes not meeting hers. He didn't want to look at her. It wasn't right to look into the eyes of someone you were about to kill. It was often said that their eyes would haunt in your sleep for the rest of your natural life. She shifted a bit. She looked down and saw that he had his jacket. "If you were cold I would have just let you have the blanket to yourse—"

"Could you please just shut the _fuck_ up for once…?" His words were like ice.

She moved back against the door that was directly behind her. "What? You were fine a minute ago. Is something wrong?"

"There has always been something wrong with me. You stupid whore. I have always had a fucking problem. And that goddamn problem was you. You were the one who got us into this fucking screwed up place that we're at now!" They were nose to nose. His hand was tightly wrapped around the blade of the knife. He felt it cutting his palm. Blood getting on the blade and his jacket. He heard whimpering coming from the back. They were waking up. It didn't matter though. It wasn't like they could do anything to stop him. After all they were just small children. The only thing that they could do was cry and whine. "I'm going to fix my problem." He whispered quietly into her ear. She shivered as she felt his warm breath against her skin. He pulled the knife roughly from the jacket. His hand stung as the blade ran against his skin and sliced it. He couldn't feel the pain though. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in towards him. Her body was ridged. She couldn't move or make a sound. The way he had put it he was going to kill her.

He bought the knife up so she could see it. She gasped and started crying. He put the knife against her throat. "D-don't…p-p-please…please don't do this…what…whatever I did t-to make you angry…I'm…I'm s-so—"

"Die bitch." He stabbed her in the stomach; blood was immediately spilling from her mouth. The bright red liquid was running down her chin and onto her clothes. She bought her hand up to her mouth as if to stop the blood from coming out. She made gurgling noises. He looked at her with a smile threatening to come. He broke out laughing. Blood was everywhere. It was all over both of them. Her hands were covered in blood as she had attempted to stop the blood from coming out of her stomach and mouth. Still laughing he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. He rested the knife on her throat. Without warning he slashed her neck. More blood. They were both now completely covered in blood. He stopped laughing when he noticed that the gurgling noises that she was making had ceased. He looked down at her now limp body. Her eyes were wide open. She was looking at him. She was looking at him with an empty lifeless stare.

Dropping the knife he bought his hands up to his face. Crying. He turned to look at the small children in the back. They were all huddled up against each other. They drew back and started crying louder when they noticed him looking at them. He turned away from them. He stuck a hand out and reached for her. He touched her lightly. Blood was still coming out of her mouth and had started coming out of her nose. He broke down. He grabbed her dead body and hugged it. Crying her hugged and kissed the empty shell. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry." But she didn't answer back. She would never answer back. She would never tell him that it was okay. That she knew he hadn't meant to hurt her. He laid her body down and climbed into the front seat. He had to do something with her body. There was no possible way that he would be able to explain to anyone if they saw the body. He patted his pockets looking for the keys. He found them in his back pockets and fumbled as he but the key into the ignition. Turning over the car he back out and drove down the road like a maniac. It was in the middle of the night so there was hardly anyone on the road. The crying was still going on in the back. He ignored it though. He was trying to think of what to do with her. He didn't have a shovel or anything so he couldn't bury her. He knew that there were matches in the glove compartment. There was also a gas can in the trunk. He didn't know whether or not there was anything in it. He kept on driving until he saw a wooded area. He pulled over and parked. He made sure that the car was hidden and no one would see him.

He opened the door and her body nearly fell out. He grunted as he picked her up and sat her by a tree. He got the matches and gas tank. He shook the tank and heard a swishing sound. There was a little something in the can. He had no choice but to use what he had. Stuffing the matches into his pocket and holding the gas can in another; he picked her up and threw her body over his shoulder. He walked as far as he could before he became tired. He laid her down. After he unscrewed the gas can he poured every drop of gas on her body. He struck several matches and dropped them every few inches on her. He watched as she slowly caught fire. He collapsed on the ground and watched her burn….

It had taken hours for her to complete burn up. He had drifted in and out of sleep the entire time. Every time he dared to dream he saw her. He saw her eyes looking at him as she lied there, dead. When he was sure the only thing left of her would be ashes he put the fire out by dumping dirt on it. He didn't know whether he should collect the ashes or not. He thought it would be easy if he just left them there and let the ashes scatter off into the wind. But some part of him wanted to keep her. That was what made him go back to car and find and empty bottle. He scooped up as much of the ashes as he could find and put them into the bottle. Sighing he screwed the lid back on to the bottle. He was a real monster. He was barely even fazed by the fact that he had killed the one person that he supposedly 'loved'. He had to get away from here. He mostly didn't believe that he had killed her. Maybe everything would seem more real if he said it aloud. He tried. "I killed someone." It still sounded unreal. He turned around and headed back to the car. When he got in he realized that _they_ were still there. That they were still bundled up in the back seat. He smirked. He shook his head and started up the car.

He had to start over. He would have to forget. They would have to forget, too. "I killed someone." He repeated over to himself. It sounded the same way as it had before. His voice was to flat and cold. "He killed the only on he ever loved." There. That sounded real. It sounded real when he talked about himself in third person. It made him feel as if someone else committed the murder instead. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was better until he was ready to face it. Of course he wondered one thing. Why hadn't she screamed instead of trying to talk him out of killing her?

'_She loved you.'_

Something inside of him answered. It still didn't make sense.

'_She thought that was something more inside of you.'_

He stared at the road before him. So what if she thought anything.

'_She thought your love for her would stop you.'_

But he didn't love her. He used to. If he felt anything for her it was most likely lust.

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That is the end. It is really different from the first one shot. This was originally going to be the beginning of my beyblades fiction but I decided that it was too short. It kind of reminds of the end of the second Dolls manga. If you liked if reveiw...if you didn't review and tell me what I should change or do. 

xoxoxo,

tRash-giRl


	3. Feelings

Author's Note: The third one shot is finally here. It is really short compared to the others but it is just as sweet.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'For The One I Love'.

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Love: A Collection of Short Stories.

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Feelings. 

I love the feeling of his touch. I love the feeling of his touch on my lips. His touch is so gentle and warm. I get a fluffy feeling in my stomach. It feels like every time that our lips meet it's the first time. The first time that was share our love for each other. The love that is forbidden. The love that people say that we will go to hell for. But I would gladly go to hell for this. This…the feeling that is the very reason I live. I smile slightly. I hold a mug of hot chocolate in my hands. I bring it to my lips and take a small sip. I pretend to ignore him as he takes a seat beside me. He is a bit of a distance away.

"Why so far away?" I ask. There is more hurt than intended to be in my voice.

"…."

I shrug placing my mug on the coffee table before us.

"You seemed to not want me around."

"Hn.'

"You aren't mad…are you?"

"…." It was my turn to be silent.

A smirk appears on his face and he moves over some.

I scoot away as a reaction.

"Since when do you keep your distance?"

"Today." I reply curtly.

Another smirk. I do hate those smirks. Yet the same smirks I hate are the same ones that I love. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yes."

"I'm not mad at you."

"That's nice."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?" I am completely unaware of what he is asking.

"Why are you mad at me?"

A blush creeps to my face. I have forgotten the reason.

"Figures." He says.

I move closer. "I'm sorry." I think about it a little more. "For my unjustly anger."

"I forgive you."

He closes the gap between us and wraps his arm around me. The touch. The very thing that I love. With a sigh I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. I open my eyes when I feel his movements. In his hands I see my mug…He's drinking from it!

"Hey! That was mine!" I moved away and pouted.

Here we go again.

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That is the end of the third one. Three down nine more to go. Anyways I decided to write that after reading a romance novel. I don't why I even decided to write this but that was how it works. Anyways, please review. I need opinions and ideas. I think the next one will be called 'Kisses' or 'Parties'. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! 

XOXOXOXOXOXO,

tRash-giRl


	4. My Enigma

Author's Note: I know it has been a while since an update. I am honestly sorry. I decided to not do a one shot entitled 'Parties' or 'Kisses' but rather this.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The One I Love.'

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Love: A Collection of Short Stories

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Anger.

The Webster's Dictionary says that anger is a strong feeling of displeasure or hostility. I believe that. But somehow I don't. I don't think feelings can be put down in words. Especially such strong feelings like anger, sadness, and joy. Yet here I am trying to write my feelings down. I'm trying to make sense of anything and everything around me. I can't though. I can't and it's all one person's fault. What do you say when someone can take everything away with a few words? What can you do? Nothing. I sat and did nothing. I tried to confront them. I tried really hard. But like always…

I **couldn't. **

I feel like a loser. I fee like a loser for letting them get to me. I know that I am not supposed to let that happen. But I feel so helpless around them. I feel like I have to give in. I know that they are bad for me. I like the bad, though, because in the bad there was good. Good that I knew existed I just couldn't find it. I had been trying to find the good for a little over a year. A year and two months to be a little more exact.

Time stood still when we first met. I had known that they were lost over an hour. I watched as they paced up and down the street. They had just recently moved here and didn't know the neighborhood that well. I had also just recently moved there but knew my way pretty well. The differences between us weren't so big. If you ask me we are really one in the same. It is said that two people who are alike don't really go well together. They don't have it takes to build a solid relationship.

Those moments that I spent staring…I knew that we could something. Even only a small meek acquaintance. So I summoned up all my courage and I did it….

Sure, to anyone what I did wouldn't look so big in someone else's eyes. But when you're as shy as I am its hard. It's hard to look at someone and thing that '_I'm going to be their friend!'_.

When I finally went up to them I found out that **them** was a **he**. Even though I could tell that he was lost it had been from a great distance so all they looked like was a figure. A body moving to the steady sound of cars passing slowly by. The screeching of brakes as they came to halt at the stop sign. But while I had noticed all the other details I hadn't noticed the important ones. At least in my opinion the important ones.

To me the most important thing about a person are their eyes. The eyes are the window to the soul. They let you know what you are getting into before you actually get in. My eyes are clouded and dark. They sometimes look like endless holes of black that go on forever. It looks like sometimes that I have nothing inside. That I am just a body without a soul. Maybe I was and still am. I was afraid to say this directly about myself and to myself, so I'd say that about other people. All the while knowing who the statements were meant for.

Looking into those eyes I saw to things. I saw green and gray. I saw light and dark. I saw the half of him that would appear perfect but was really troubled. The green. Then I saw the part that wanted to fade into the back ground and die. The gray.

I had always thought that white and black could be used to describe such things. I had always felt that white and black were the only way to describe light and darkness. But they weren't. I guess my mind had been closed, but it had just opened. Just a crack I as I studied. I saw what I was getting into— which was a mess— I was surprised.

He was and is the type of mess that is only known to people as an 'anti-hero'. I had loved anti-heroes since the day I started watching television. Of course back then I didn't know that the character I liked was called an anti-hero. I sort of thought of them as they good guy gone bad. But when I heard the word everything made sense. I re-read the definition over and over. So when I looked at him I knew that I had met my own anti-hero, but what did that make me?

"I'm lost."

Me too. I am lost in my new found enigma. We didn't even know each other and here I was. I already knew everything about a person whose first words to me were 'I'm lost'. The words threatening to be the last we ever shared if I didn't open my mouth.

I blinked and said, "Where're you trying to go?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. They were a true black as was his hair. I had only seen one person with truly black hair and that was the lady at the library. You could tell when someone's hair is truly black and not just dyed. Their hair matches their skin no matter what color. It is deep and dull colored, yet shiny and beautiful. It's like a black hole pulling you in deeper and deeper.

"Um…I live on Seven Springs Circle."

That street. That street used to be my sister's bus stop. There was something so odd and unsure about how he spoke. He made eye contact yet didn't. His voice was soft and rough. It was smoky and clear. But it was deep.

I was standing before an oxymoron.

"You may want to make a right and continue down the street and then…you'll be there. If you go left you'll be at the entrance, if you right you'll go into the neighborhood." I rambled. I don't why I told him that. I didn't need to. Anyone could figure it out for themselves. All you had to do was look.

"Thanks."

He turned and I watched him go. I watched my enigma…anti-hero…oxymoron go. I watched him walk away. I noticed more things that suddenly seemed to pop out at me. These things that screamed '_See me!_' and I did. I saw that his hair was curly and thick. Perfect curls like the ones you saw on porcelain dolls. So round and bouncy. You dared to touch the curls because you knew that they were soft, but you didn't want to ruin them even if they would never disappear. I saw so many other things that weren't on the outside. I knew something instantly.

He was just like me.

My heart fell and I died. I hated people who remind me of myself. I hate people who keep things inside and never tell. I hate people who fake anger because they are trying to hide sadness. I shook my head. I was going over to someone's house for the first time in five years. I had just met this girl, named Charlotte, at the bookstore. She and I were both were in the Manga/Graphic Novels section. We hit it off immediately.

She was the first real friend that I made by myself. I was so proud. I knew that I could meet people who could and would like me.

I turned and started back to my family's house. It was an old house made back in the sixties. All the homes in our neighborhood. Back then they had built things to last. That was why our house was still standing. Inside though it was updated. We had a flat surface, electric stove. There was a double door refrigerator that took up a wall. We had the latest Kenmore washer and drier downstairs in our finished basement. The basement was also a game room where my siblings and I would often watch television or play video games.

But none of this phased my mind. I held onto the door knob to the front door. I let myself admit it. He…was…kind of…, "Hot." I finished the thought vocally as my older sister opened the door. She had seen me through the side window and thought that something was wrong with me. She gave me a questioning look but walked away.

I figured that I would have lunch before going to Charlotte. Lucky, for me she lived in the neighborhood and I could walk to her house.

-o-o-o-o-

_Ding-dong._

There was a high note then a low one. I wore a passive look on my face as I waited for someone to answer. I heard someone squeal '_She's here! Finally someone my own age.'_ and then I heard someone say something mean '_Shut the fuck up already._' The door opened just as Charlotte shouted something back: "Why don't you go rot in hell you Russian freak!"

My face got hot as she turned around and did a complete 180 with her mood. "Hey, Morgan!"

"Hi…."

My voice was monotone and quiet.

Charlotte grabbed me by my wrists and pulled me inside. "Sorry 'bout the mess. You know what it's like when you first move to a place." She maneuvered around a large brown box. "So just walk around the boxes."

She waited for at the foot of the stairs. She had reached the area from the foyer to stairs first. Charlotte was pretty. Charlotte, as she said so herself, was biracial. She said her mother was white and father was black. She talked about her father a lot. She was apparently closer to him than to her mother. When she was explaining herself to me she said that even though her family sounded perfect, which they did, everyone has problems. Charlotte didn't want to talk about this problem at the time.

"'Kay so lets go back in my room. I have the first few episodes of D.N. Angel on DVD…we can watch 'em. With the cable not yet set up and all." She planted her hands on her hips and tilted her head in thought.

"Whatever, I don't really care."

"Good. Later you can help!"

"I care now." This remark got a laugh from her. She started up the stairs and motioned for me to follow. As far as I knew Charlotte was a happy girl. She didn't doubt anything about herself. She was always smiling and laughing. She'd make random jokes about things. I was forced out of thought when Charlotte stopped suddenly. She was glaring at an open door.

The room behind the door was messy. There was a mattress on the floor. The bed railings for it were propped against a wall. Clothes and hangers were spilling from boxes and thrown all over the floor. A television sat on top one of the boxes and looked that it might start sinking in anytime soon. But simply it was chaos. I didn't know why Charlotte hated this room. But maybe it wasn't the room but rather the person that resided in the room.

"Plan on moving anytime soon?"

It was the same voice that had made the '_Shut the fuck up already_' comment. I turned around to the face of my enigma. The oddness of it all. So this was where he was trying to get back to. Even though it looked as if he really didn't want to be here. Charlotte scowled and finished going up the remaining steps. I followed suit still keeping quiet.

He headed in the direction of the messy room. He stopped and turned around. He looked at me with those eyes. The light and dark eyes. "Hey…again." We had never exchanged words of greeting. If we had I must have been thinking.

I felt a tug on my arm as Charlotte pulled me into her room and slammed the door. Unlike the other room she had been glaring at, her room was absolutely spotless. Her bed was set up and had been made. She had a nightstand beside her bed. On top of the stand there was a lamp and alarm clock. There was a dresser and a bookshelf on the wall across from the bed. The bookshelf was filled dictionaries, teen romance novels, and manga.

"You want to watch episode one?"

She was squatting at the foot of her bed. A large clear plastic bin was beside her with a dozen or so DVDs thrown inside.

"Yeah." I sat down on the floor. I didn't really want to ruffle the nice furniture.

"So…"

Her 'so' was casual. It was as if she was trying to figure something out.

"So?"

She spun around and sat down cross-legged. Charlotte sat the movie down in her lap. "Where'd you meet my brother?" She had a nonchalant look on her face. I hoped she wasn't going to be weird about anything. After all, she was the first friend that I had found on my own.

I hesitated. "I…I walked up and gave him directions. He was lost."

I was still shocked that he was her brother. They looked nothing like. I know that not all siblings look exactly alike, but there is always some resemblance whether it is just the nose or eyes.

"He's adopted," Charlotte had read my mind. She was carefully placing the disk in the DVD tray, "I don't know why. I am jealous though. He gets more attention because everything about him is so screwed up." Her eyes avoided mine as she pressed play.

Pulling my knees to my chest I focused my eyes to the television.

"If you stick around long enough, you'll see."

And I had. I started coming over daily. I started helping out with the move-in. I was introduced formally to all the members of Charlotte's family. At least all the ones that she wanted me to meet. As I spent more time with her, she told me more and more. I was the person that she would confide in. She was the author writing down the greatest story of all time and I was the paper that was lucky enough to capture the story. That was how I saw our relationship. And that was they I'd always see it.

"Here."

Charlotte gingerly handed me book that I had asked her to pass me. She was acting a bit strangely as she did often. We were on the grass that was in front of my house. The artificial green was staining her white shorts. I had been smart and worn jeans. Charlotte gazed across the street. She seemed to be studying something there so I wasn't surprised when she nudged me. "What is it?"

Her eyes moved from me to two girls standing and talking across the street. "See that girl?"

"Who? The dirty blonde?"

She shook her head. "No, the girl _next_ to her."

I looked at the girl. Her hair was short and fell just halfway to her ears. She appeared to be pretty tall and had long legs. At this distance I could tell that she was one of those beautiful people. People who were naturally nice to look at. She looked like one of those girls that you would have to do a double take to make sure that she was real.

"Don't know her name but she's a slut. A big one." Charlotte pulled up some grass and let out a long sigh.

I turned my head slightly and looked at her through the corner of my eye. "How'd you figure that?"

"Because last—"

Charlotte was cut of, not by someone deciding to speak but by someone coming over. It was the said subject of our conversation. She was giving a large smile and waving at Charlotte with a rather animatedly. She and the dirty blonde, who's named I learned from her younger sister was Hope, came over. "Hello." The girl pushed back her brunette hair. "Good to see you again Char."

I choked. Charlotte looked humiliated. I had never heard anyone make a nickname for. I assumed that she, unlike me, was too good for stupid nicknames.

"Hey…" Charlotte put her finger to her chin.

"Dana." The girl interjected. "It's okay. We haven't known each other that long."

Dana. Dana, such an ugly name. I wanted to say this out loud. But I didn't want to be seen as rude. Hope was introducing herself to Charlotte. Out of everyone Hope was the only sane person that I could relate to.

"Oh! I hope Charlotte told you the news. I am so-o happy." Dana laughed. She seemed to be stuck in some kind of odd euphoria. Charlotte and Hope just shook their heads. It looked as if I would be filled in on the matter soon. But before then I would have to wait until Dana stopped giggling. We all watched as she took a deep breath and calmed down.

I don't get it. "Tell me what is going on?"

"Tell her!" Dana giggled again.

"Me?" Hope raises an eyebrow.

I risk a glance over at Charlotte who seems to be annoyed. "**I** will then!" She screams and pulls me closer. She whispers something in my ear but I miss it. I give her a confused look and shrug my shoulders. She rolls her eyes and looks away.

"We can talk later," Hope begins slowly. She pokes Dana and motions for her to go back across the street. It was the first time that I had spent anytime with her. In a group or alone. She and Dana walk back to her house. Hope hitting the back of her leg, and Dana pulling down her shirt.

"As I was saying before they came." Charlotte began pulling at the grass again.

"Yeah…"

"Ugh...that slut…she thinks she's got something…well it was only one night!"

She ends up not telling me. She ends up letting me try and figure it out for myself. Charlotte said she had tried to warn Dana came over last night. She had told Dana that there is nothing behind a pretty face. A pretty face that is detached. But Dana would listen because she was so sure. But she wasn't. The next time I saw Dana would be the next day. Her mascara would be running and she would be sobbing her eyes out. A cup from Starbucks would lay at her feet and she would be cursing everyone.

-o-o-o-o-

I am different from Dana. I never asked for anything. I had offered something but not that much. All I offered was to be a someone to talk to. But here I was with my cell phone in hand and just staring. I had lost the most out of all the girls. Out of all the little whores and sluts before. I was just a person.

I looked out the window. It was pouring down rain. The sky was gray. There was lightening…then thunder.

The next thing I saw made me want to rethink myself. My enigma. There he was walking down the street as if the rain wasn't pouring down by the buckets. The dark circles under his eyes probably made him look dead. I hadn't seen him a two days. Yet I knew what he looked like at the moment. When bad things happened his bad habits would kick in.

But right now I didn't care.

Because right now I finally saw him for what he really was.

A figure walking down the street.

Surrounded by the color that was his name.

Not wanting to be whole.

Not wanting to be broken.

He existed only to die.

And died only because he forgot his purpose.

I wished that he could see me.

But the cold eyes are facing forward.

Looking onto the black.

Dark clothes clinging and hair clinging to skin.

I wondered where my enigma will go.

Becoming more and more like his namesake.

Nothing is light.

Nothing is dark.

There is only the area in between.

You are either light or dark.

But what will you do my enigma?

Being perfectly half of each.

You cannot exist.

Stopping, looking up at the sky as it thunders.

As it calls your name.

I finally saw him for what he really was.

A nobody.

Broken by everything.

He cannot be fixed.

His a nothing to always be broken.

I remember so much. I remember learning his name and thinking: '_What dumb ass names their child that?_'. He must have read my mind because I saw the faintest hint of a blush. I knew the truth the whole entire time. I denied each and every time. I liked someone else. There was another person but I felt deeper for him. Each and every day until I was sure.

I was in love with my enigma.

As Hope and grew closer she often told me that my enigma loved me back. That he would wonder and ask all about me. Of course I knew Hope was lying. Until the day I went out with another guy. My enigma became angry but wouldn't say a word. I brushed it off as a moment. A thing that will never happen again.

When Charlotte moved away I was sad. I had no reason to go see my enigma. But somehow I made myself see my enigma every day. I became apart of his daily schedule and me apart of his. We were tied together.

So why were things like this now?

Why was my enigma pissed at me?

And why had I done something so bad and let the words '_I hate you._' come out?

This is a story that will forever go on. A story without an end. The day it ends will be the day that one of us dies and is separated from the other. I hope we are never separated. I want to be with him so much. It is corny I know. But somehow he means a lot to me. I love every imperfection about him. I love how he prefers to be close to me rather than far away. I love everything.

Yet somehow I realize that I hate him. I told myself I would never love a guy like him. A guy who seems to have no moral values what so ever. But I was dead wrong. He doesn't seem to be some bad boy that I will like only for a moment and then forget. He is something different. Sure, he goes to anger management. Sure, he goes to a 'second chance' school. Sure, he has been in serious trouble. Sure, he is the reason for the bruise on my head.

But…I am a hopeless romantic.

Looking around for someone to love.

But…he is like a little puppy.

The little puppy that looks up at you with big eyes that say _'Love me, love me.'_

And I do love him.

It can be hard but I…

* * *

I'm done with number four! This is a really personal story because it's based off of my personal life. The first part is partially fictional and the second part is completely fictional. The third part however is true. The event just recently happened. I actually called asked Charlotte and Hope to see if I could put them in this story. Dana was made up as a filler character because I forgot the real girl's name and the story with her. The third part also includes a poem that I wrote while watching my 'enigma' walk out in the rain. I really hoped you liked it. Tell me what you think and please (please, please, please…) review! 

Thank you for reading!

trash-girl


	5. Gone

Author's Note: It has been a really long time since an update. But I hope this is some good…I will try harder to become a better updater.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The One I Love'.

* * *

Love: A Collection of Short Stories

* * *

Gone.

I rolled over and looked at her.

There was the woman I love. The one who I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

We were so close yet so far away.

We didn't understand each other's emotions or feelings.

I was angry.

And she was always sad.

I guess that's what caused things to end up the way they did.

I touched her cold, lifeless body.

Had I really let my anger get the best of me?

Had I really been so foolish as to hurt the woman that I so call loved?

Of course I had. I had been the monster that I really was and I had killed her. But it had all been an accident I swear.

I just become so angered by her and what she was doing that I couldn't…I couldn't understand control myself anymore.

Like it or not I had become the thing that I hated most.

The thing that I thought should be killed.

I had become a murderer.

Yesterday, I killed her.

Today, I had sex with the dead body.

Tomorrow, I will hide her from the world.

I will move away so no one can find me.

I will disappear from the world too.

Because once I get to my safe haven I will kill myself.

Then I will be…

Gone.

* * *

Okay, so sue me that was really lame. But I like to think about the murdering of someone that one is supposed to love. It just adds mystery and lights my curiosity. Please leave a review! I beg of you all if you make it to this chapter, leave a review! I really like writing this collection and will be finished in seven more stories please support me! 

tRash-giRl


	6. Simple and Clean

Author's Note: Here is number six. Which is also short because I think that one-shots are way cuter when they are short.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The One I Love'.

* * *

Love: A Collection of Short Stories

* * *

Simple and clean.

Those are the two most amazing feelings that I have ever felt before. I have never felt so alive in all my life. I have never seen the world in the different light that I am now seeing it in.

I could sit at the beach for hours with you.

I could watch you talk all day long. I wouldn't get bored with hearing your life story, no matter how many times that you told it. I would be happy with the fact that you bother to share something so special with me.

But then again I am weird like that. And you know it very well.

I think you're an angel. And you think that I am an angel. Well, I can say that we are both a little crazy. Though all people are crazy when they are in love. There is just no other way to put it.

After all, no one loves you like I do.

Some people think of you in a mean way.

Some people think of you in a nice way.

They just don't see you like I do.

After all, no one loves me like you do.

Some people hate my guts and want me to die.

Some people love my guts and want me to live forever with good health.

They just don't see me like you do.

I don't mind that.

You don't mind.

It's perfect.

It's simple and clean.

* * *

This is actually very cute and interesting. I like it, no I love it. Please leave a review. People, I'm getting desperate. 

tRash-giRl


	7. Hold My Hand

Author's Note: Yay! I have reached the more than halfway point. Meaning I'm almost done. I'm not going to leave and ending note so please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The One I Love'.

* * *

Love: A Collection of Short Stories

* * *

"Hold my hand!"

He looked at me and shook his head. I guess that meant the thought was still pending in his head. "No." Damn it. That wasn't the answer that I was looking for. But I won't give up.

"Hold my hand right now or else…!"

"Or else what? I'm like a foot taller than you. What can _you_ do to _me_?"

I bite my lip. He has me there. I can't do anything really. Except one thing…

"H-ah, what the h-hell are you…do-ah-ing…"

I look at him a few minutes later.

"Hold my hand, please."

"Fine."


	8. Kisses

Author's Note: After I fail at making a good one I try again by making this one or number eight.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'The One I Love'.

* * *

Love: A Collection of Short Stories

* * *

Kisses.

The Webster Dictionary says that a kiss is to touch or caress with lips as an expression of affection, greeting, or amorousness. I know that is true and so does everyone else. I see smiles and laughter and joking when I see couples kiss. The way they look into each others eyes as if speaking an unspoken language. It must be something so special. I change that. It is something so special. Of course what makes it so special is the fact that it is with someone special. It is with someone that you love or care about so deeply.

But how would I know I haven't kissed anyone before. Maybe a couple of guys here and there but I don't like them. Its just my job to give all the boy's their first kisses, at least the ones who haven't kissed yet.

I'm just the slut that sits behind, beside, or in front of you in class.

The boy I really love is the one that you have a special place in your heart for. I'll get him from you because I'm the slut. I'll win him over with a simple little kiss that will ignite into something more. Something that will break your heart.

* * *

Number eight sucks as much as the others but review nonetheless. 

tRash-giRl


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